Lord High Protector
by Ripplingstorm
Summary: Megatron thought he had completely rid himself of his Lord High Protector coding. Apparently not. It was becoming quite influential, which, of course, irritated him to no end. To make him a proper Lord High Protector once again, his memories from before the war are pulled up. This is Megatron's journey as he sticks by Optimus as younglings, only to drift to war, and back.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Hey! I have another story. The storyline for this one is a mix of movieverse and the TF Prime cartoons. Based on the remnants of Megatron's Lord High Protector coding. I don't plan for this story to be too long, but then again, you never know.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers franchise; that's owned by Hasbro. The story idea and plot, however, is mine.

* * *

Megatron hated his brother. Hated with a burning passion that drove his spark into a frenzy every time the name Prime or a thought even remotely relating to Prime came up. So as a result, pummeling the Prime had become a favourite pastime of his. Which was why this stupid war had been dragging on and on; he would have to find a new hobby if it ended. That, and the fact that Optimus Prime refused to die properly.

They hated each other so much; it was a bit baffling at times why _both_ of them were still online. One would think that after thousands of vorns of war, one of them would be dead by now, but no. They had both made it their personal goals to destroy each other and the opposing faction – well, Megatron couldn't speak for the soft-sparked glitch his disowned brother was, but Megatron had in fact made it his life goal. Besides conquering the universe, that is.

He would kill Optimus Prime, enslave his pitiful Autobots, destroy all that displeased him, and become Supreme Commander of the Universe. A thrill of maniacal glee raced through his processor at this. Yet, at the same time, a thrum of uncertainty and a feeling hesitancy pulsed from his spark. _What _the_ frag?_ What was this…_mutiny_ of a feeling that flashed through his spark?

Three coding searches, one rather embarrassing processor crash and half a joor later, Megatron still had no answer. He had deleted all the codes of a Lord High Protector! Soundwave had even written a string of code to barricade the High Protector instincts that were more than coding! So _why_ the _frag_ was his spark and processor at war?

Another half a joor of searching finally afforded him an answer. The Lord High Protector codes were certainly deleted and Soundwave's codes were still in perfect working order, but apparently, the coding ran far deeper than he had originally thought; it ran spark deep. Only one question was left unanswered. Why now?

As Megatron pondered this in his usual way of pondering things (that is to say, with abusive and very violent thoughts), memories were suddenly brought up. _Without_ his fragging permission, mind you. Memories that Megatron simply couldn't bear to delete, even if that thrice blasted Prime was in all of them. Memories of him and his brother before he started the war (yes, Megatron admitted with no shame – that wimpy, pacifist of a brother of his could _never_ have even purposefully harmed a cyberpest).

He tried to fight it, he really did, but the torrent of memories that were not as securely locked as he had thought dragged him into the past. A past from the end of Cybertron's Golden Age, what was to become the next of the planet's Golden Age, and everything in between. Megaton had no choice but to allow his consciousness to be pulled into the torrent. He fought it, because he hated the Prime, but that hate slowly faded away as his own processor and spark rebelled against him, submerging him into an early, now bittersweet memory.

See, Megatron hadn't always hated Optimus Prime.

* * *

**A/N:** So ends the prologue. I invite you all to review! Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter One: Trouble

**A/N:** Chapter one. I'm not too sure if I got the personality and characterization of youngling Megatron and Optimus right, but I figured that since there are no official stories portraying them as younglings, it was up to the writer.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers in any way.

* * *

_Location: Towers, Iacon_

Two streaks of colour raced down the halls of the Tower. Mechs didn't even give them a second glance – they had long since become used to the shenanigans the twins got up to in their spare time. Visitors, however, stared wide opticked at the two blurred forms as they zipped around corners and ducked under large mechs, manoeuvring the busy halls like professionals on an obstacle course. The speeding forms finally stopped moving as they crashed into the wall and sat up, looking dazed.

Wobbling as they stood on unsteady legs, they, oblivious to the presence of the other mechs in the hallways, started bickering.

"I _told_ you it wasn't a good idea. But no, you never listen and then you get us into trouble!"The silver youngling hissed as he leaned into his brother's faceplates.

The red and blue one crossed his arms in defiance. He saw his creators and older mechs do that when they were mad. "You still did it with me, so it's your fault too."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No it isn't!"

"Yes it is!"

"NO IT ISN'T!"

"YES IT IS!"

The two younglings stood helm crest to helm crest as they screamed at each other. Some mechs just gave them a cursory glance, and then looked away, shaking their helms. They knew better than to try to get between the two, lest they team up and turn on the poor mech who interrupted their argument. The visitors at the Tower stared on, not sure what to do.

The younglings glared at each other, optic to optic, tiny servos clenched at their sides, vents hitching. Then they started once again.

"You're always the one with stupid ideas."

"Yeah, well, you're always trying to kill me dead with the boring history of those stupid cannons Creator has."

"At least I know something useful!"

"How is that useful?!" the red and blue youngling screeched. "At least I know how to have fun!"

"Have _fun?!_ You nearly killed us!"

"Yeah right. We would be dead right now if I nearly killed us."

"That makes no sense!"

"At least I'm taller than you! I don't have to make sense."

Optics widening in indignation, the silver youngling howled at the top of his voice. "No! _I'm_ taller!"

"I'm taller!"

"No you're not! I'm taller!"

"No, _I'm_ taller!"

"I'm taller!"

"Shut up! I'm taller!"

With that, the two younglings pushed at each other in fury, and they both went down in a heap of tangled limbs. Then, to the utter surprise of everyone who had been cautiously watching the heated exchange, the two tiny younglings burst into giggles. Wide opticked looks were shared all around. Surprise quickly turned to shock as the two began to throw swears and degrading insults at each other.

"Stupid glitch."

"Pit-spawned moron."

"Half-clocked piece of slag."

"Slag-worthy mini-glitch."

"Unicron spawned, bit-brained fragger."

"Dim-sparked, bolt-brained, slagging, fragging, Primus forsaken piece of glitching –"

The red and blue youngling was suddenly cut off as a familiar voice cut through his spiel.

"Orion Pax! Close your mouthplates and cease your behaviour immediately!"

The twins looked up to find their Creator Shadowflare glaring down at them, his large frame casting an ominous shadow over the two. They smiled innocently up at him.

"Hello, Creator," they said.

Shadowflare only glared further and snapped out a command. "That kind of behaviour is unacceptable. We have already discussed this. Not another word out of you two until we get back to your rooms. Understand?"

"Yes Creator."

With that, Shadowflare picked up the two berated younglings and slung them over his shoulders. Every mech stared as the tall mech began down the halls with the two younglings.

Orion grinned at his brother from the awkward position of hanging over his Creator's backstrut. "I win."

The silver twin glared back and snarled out a few more insults. "You glitching spawn of Unicron."

"Silverstreak! What did I say about cursing other people?" Shadowflare jostled the silver youngling for emphasis.

"You didn't, Creator."

Orion grinned at his brother once again. Slowly, Silverstreak grinned back. They kept on grinning, poking at each other through the twin bond they shared. Shadowflare's lecture on the proper behaviour and etiquette of nobles was completely ignored. They did, however, catch the last bit.

"Tell me, Orion, Silverstreak, from whomever in Primus's name did you learn those vulgar terms?"

The twins glanced at each other again, both nodding in confirmation.

"Ironhide!" they chimed simultaneously. "We learned it from Ironhide!"

Creator would be mad at Ironhide. It was funny to watch them argue sometimes. Plus, Ironhide had those really cool guns that he sometimes shoots mechs with when he gets mad. The two started giggling as their Creator shook his helm and vented. It was a bad idea; Ironhide might just come after them, but it was worth it to get the hulking black mech riled up. Plus, the Prime would protect them if his bodyguard started chasing them.

Next joor would be very interesting.

* * *

_Location: Nemesis, Earth_

Megatron gasped as he resurfaced from the memory. He could feel his expression tightening and his mouthplates turned down in a scowl. That memory was useless and dead. Orion Pax was dead, and along with him, his brother. As he moved to delete it, though, he was pulled under again.


	3. Chapter Two: Taken

**A/N:** Hello again. I present you with chapter two. Sorry for taking so long to update!

So I have included the locations of where the events take place yet again, though I only did so to separate Megatron's memories from reality. I did not identify every location in the story, only those at the beginning of a memory or reality. If you would like me to include them all, then I will do that.

**Note:** As I am not very familiar with all the Transformers characters, I do not know if any of them bear the same designation as my characters. Silverstreak is a name I came up with for youngling Megatron (before I searched it up), though I know it is what Bluestreak is sometimes referred to as. However, I would like to keep it because I think it really fits. That and I can't come up with anything else. Shadowflare is my OC.

Also, I do not have beta reader, so... if anyone is willing to beta read for me that would be great. Thank you!

Lastly, thanks to an anonymous reviewer! Your review made my day. :)

Disclaimer: Besides the plot, Shadowflare and Firecrown, I do not own anything in this story.

* * *

To clarify things, here is a legend for the italicized/non-italicized parts of the story

_Location_

_~bond talk between Orion and Silverstreak~_

**_Private messages_** **  
**

"Normal conversation."

* * *

**Another Note:** some time does pass between the first memory and the second, though that's up to you. In my mind, approximately a vorn has passed. The memories will only be ones I consider significant in Megatron's past, ones that eventually leads to the war, so not every moment will be represented in the story.

* * *

_Location: Towers, Iacon_

The room was filled with wails and sounds of choking sobs as the Tower twins clung to each other in desperation. It wasn't they who were screaming in horror; no, those screams belonged to the mechs and femmes who had just come in, their Creator's friends, comrades, and Towers family. Their home was bustling with activity, though every bot looked grim and sad. The twins knew they were in the way of the investigation, but they didn't care. Nothing anyone could say could get them to move or come out of their shell-shocked condition. No one dared to remove them by force.

Silverstreak and Orion Pax stood in a puddle of no-longer-glowing energon. It was a disgusting black-green colour, and not at all the colour of the energon they had both spilled when they came running into their Creators' rooms waving full energon cubes.

No, the energon they spilled was still glowing blue and was now in a puddle at the entrance. The discoloured energon they were standing in was the energon that had been spilled from their Creators' frames. Their Creators lay in front of them, their frames retaining little of their original colours. Shadowflare and Firecrown were dead. Dead. They were dead.

_~Silverstreak? ~_

_~Orion? ~_

_~Ironhide's lying. ~_

_~I know. ~_

They stood there in a puddle of black-green, cold, congealing energon. Ironhide eventually told them that their Creators had been murdered. They had been poisoned, then stabbed in the processor among other things.

The Prime was there too. He looked on sadly at the cold, slowly greying frames of Firecrown and Shadowflare.

The younglings hadn't uttered a single word since their bloodcurling screams at the discovery of their Creators. They had been trying to stay strong for each other, and speaking would shatter that façade they were trying to hold onto. They couldn't just break down and start sobbing. Shadowflare would highly disapprove of such un-noble-like conduct. If he had still been alive. Thinking this, both younglings pushed back another wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm their resolve. In the end, it was Silverstreak who broke first.

_~Orion, I'm scared. ~_

This surprised Orion; Silverstreak rarely showed such emotions. For it to happen now spoke volumes of the desperation and pain his brother was feeling. _~Me too, Silverstreak. I'm scared too. ~_

_~What are we going to do? What's going to happen to us? ~_

_~I don't know. I don't know anything now. All I know is that they're gone and this time, they're not coming back like before. This time, they're really gone. ~_

_~... Yeah. ~_

It finally became too much; the gruesome scene before the trembling younglings was not one mechs of their age should ever be exposed to. Energon still slowly dripped from their Creators' distorted processors, their chassis two mangled messes of metal pried apart to expose their now empty spark chambers, their limbs lay twisted at odd angles, their throats now torn messes of cables.

_~They broke their promise, Silverstreak! ~_

_~I know, Orion. I just…_

Shadowflare's wings had been nearly ripped right off; they were hanging on only by the few cables left attached. The weapons system that he was so proud of had been completely destroyed, save for the fusion cannon that had been ripped off but otherwise left undamaged. His arms had been torn apart, every single cable snapped, the thick armour smashed to pieces. Firecrown's beautiful helm adornments had been brutally ripped off and tossed about the room. Her weapons system had been utterly ruined as well.

… _I don't even care that they did anymore. I just wish they were here. ~ _Silverstreak knew what Orion was talking about. But that didn't even matter, not anymore.

_~They said they would never leave us for real. They said they would always come back. They said they – ~_

Shadowflare and Firecrown's optics, once pairs of striking sunset orange and piercing emerald green orbs, no longer glowed with the brilliance they used to. Now they were just dead and lifeless and as dark as the optics of a dead mech. The warm glow and the calming pulses of their sparks would never be felt again, having flickered out long before Orion Pax and Silverstreak found them.

_~Orion, please – ~_

_~They said they would always be there for us! They said – ~_

_~I know what they said! But they're dead now! Dead mechs can't keep promises!~_

Energon was splattered everywhere on their frames, like dark, twisted decorations adorning their mangled forms. It streaked down their faceplates like tears falling from their dead optics. But that wasn't possible. Cybertronians didn't shed tears. It was impossible to cry tears. Upon remembering this, Orion wanted to cry an entire flood of tears at thinking how sad their Creators must have been. How lonely. How desperate. How scared. Shadowflare didn't get scared, but it was still really horrible. Like how horrible it was now.

_~I know that! They didn't keep their promise in the end. Why couldn't they just stay alive?!_

_~Because some mech killed them dead, that's why!~_

Silverstreak would never again be able to watch Shadowflare transform. He would never again be able to admire his fusion cannon. He would never again be able to fly with his Creator. Orion would never be able to hang off his Creator's large frame like he used to. He would never again have the chance to watch him fight. The days when they could listen to Firecrown explain Cybertron's history were gone. The nights when they would fall into recharge listening to her tell stories of her adventures and Cybertron's cities were no more.

_~… they were supposed to be with us until we became like them. Until we grew up.~_

_~But we're not all grown up yet. And they're gone. Orion, what are we supposed to do now? ~_

Everything they had known, everything that was familiar, everything that was _constant_, was gone, all in a single second. In that moment, their life came crashing down around them. Everything was gone. Their Creators were dead. Gone, just like that. They had nothing but each other left. _Everything was gone._

_~I don't know. I just want them back. I just want Shadowflare to be alive again, even if it means we'll have to listen to a billion lectures. ~_

_~I want Firecrown back, even if it means we have to stop fooling around and study all day.~_

_~… I miss them. I wish they weren't dead. ~_

_~… but they are dead. Do you think… do you think that at least they might be happy now, being in the Allspark? ~_

_~Silverstreak, it's being 'one with the Allspark', you dolt. And yeah, I think that at least they might be happy. Maybe they miss us too. ~_

_~Yeah, I think they do. ~_

With that, the twins lapsed into silence and further tightened their embrace around each other. They couldn't let go. If they did, they would really fall apart. They had to be strong, not so much for each other but for everyone else. So like that, they held on to each other, never once letting go.

O.o.O.o.O

Finally, after half a joor, the twins detached from each other. Orion ran into Zeta Prime's arms and Silverstreak was swept up by Ironhide.

"Why did they die, Zeta?" Orion asked, his large optics filled with an immeasurable amount of sadness.

"I don't know, Orion." Zeta was lying. Orion could see it. But he only nodded and buried his helm into Zeta's armour, his own frame trembling.

"Who did this, 'Hide?" Silverstreak wondered, his voice shaking.

"I don't know, youngling. But we will find out and punish those who killed your Creators."

Silverstreak nodded and sniffed. "I hate them."

Ironhide looked at the lost youngling in his arms. His hardened spark broke just a little.

O.o.O.o.O

The two of them were taken to the Prime's home. The Prime had the heaviest protection in all of Cybertron, after all.

Zeta Prime stood in the doorway and watched them fall into recharge, Ironhide at his side. They twins clutched at each other even in their rest, the orn's traumatizing events having followed them even into their recharge cycle.

"Zeta…" Ironhide rumbled

"I know, Ironhide. _They_ know. We have to keep the younglings safe." With that, the large frames of the Prime and his bodyguard disappeared, off to double check that the entirety of Prime's Palace was secure and on lockdown.

They didn't notice that Orion Pax and Silverstreak were both very much awake, nor did they notice the shadow of a small, lithe frame as it dropped down from its hiding place. They were already too far away to hear it when the twins squealed in surprise at the sight of an intruder.

O.o.O.o.O

Silverstreak woke to terror pouring into his bond from his brother. His helm hurt and his processor felt woozy. He couldn't see very well either. What had happened? Then, all of a sudden, everything from the previous orn came rushing back. He remembered now. Their Creators were dead. They had been taken to the Prime's Palace. Then… there was nothing.

_~Streaker? Are you okay? ~_

_~I'm fine, 'rion. Are you okay? ~_

_~I'm okay. I don't think we're in Zeta's palace anymore though. I don't even think we're in Iacon anymore. ~_

_~You're right. Iacon doesn't have these kinds of sounds. ~_

"Then where are we, Streaker?" Orion whispered in a broken voice, having slipped from talking through the bond to physically speaking without noticing.

"I don't know, Orion."

Suddenly, a new voice cut in, dim light filtering in as the mech opened the compartment they had been stuck in. "Heya, little mechs. How're ya doing?" When the two younglings did nothing but glare back, the mech chuckled. "Alright then. Can't expect much else. Welcome ta Tyger Pax! This will be yer home now. There ain't no goin' back."

They were hauled out of some vehicle of sorts and dumped ungraciously onto the dirty grounds. Then the silver mech laughed gleefully, transformed, and sped off, leaving them in the dark alleys of Tyger Pax. They were all alone.

O.o.O.o.O

They wandered the loud, gross, dirty and uncouth streets of Tyger Pax for three orns, reduced to begging for energon. They hadn't consumed any since the morning of the orn they found their Creators dead. They were both becoming extremely weak, their energon level almost down to zero. Orion was sick and nearly depleted of all his energy. Silverstreak was no better off. But it didn't matter how much they begged or who they asked. The response was always the same. In the end, when they could no longer move, they curled up against each other in an alleyway and resigned that it was their time to join the Allspark.

_~Streaker? ~_

_~Orion? ~_

_~I love you lots. I'll miss you. ~_

_~I love you too. Maybe we can see our Creators again. ~_

_~Yeah, maybe. I miss them lots. ~_

They almost fell into a recharge cycle from which they would never wake. They were almost dead as it was. But they didn't. Die, that is.

Large servos poked at them, and they curled further into each other, whimpering, thinking it was a bad mech planning to hurt them some more. A growling voice accompanied the servos.

"Well, frag me silly. More mechs starving on the streets. A pair of younglings too. Where has the compassion of all these mechs and femmes gone? Primus forbid they were created without any." With a sigh and the sound of clanking metal, the large servos were back.

Feeling a sharp sting in his sensitive arm cable, Silverstreak managed to pick his helm up, but didn't have any energy to maintain the position. He could feel himself being picked up, but he was too weak to fight back. The drip of energon into this frame felt nice though. He saw Orion being picked up as well. Then, for the second time in the past few orns, darkness claimed him.

* * *

_Location: Megatron's private quarters, Nemesis, Earth_

Megatron was abruptly jerked out of his memories as a message from Soundwave was delivered to his comm. system. Opening it up, Megatron found that it was nothing outside the parameters of normal.

_**Lord Megatron. Autobot attack: energon mine DE-05-07-4186. Starscream: requires assistance.**_

Growling in annoyance, Megatron contacted Soundwave and demanded to know if there were any available troops left.

_:Negative, Lord Megatron. Vehicons: mining:_

_:All of them?:_

_:Affirmative.:_

_:Very well. Groundbridge me there and I will deal with Starscream.:_

With that, Megatron stormed out of his private chambers, transformed, and flew down the halls to the ship's bridge.

Soundwave, having had the insight to open a groundbridge prior to his Lord's arrival, watched as Megatron flew into the swirling colours. He pitied the Autobots. Whatever it was that had his master so on the edge – and Soundwave made it a point to never pry about anything concerning Megatron – the anger was sure to be taken out on Optimus Prime.

Beating the Autobots had never failed to improve his Lord's mood, after all.


	4. Chapter Three: Urge

**A/N: **Hello again. I present you with the third chapter.

Note: Coppergleam is my OC.

Thank you to Sarielgrace and an anonymous reviewer for their reviews!

**Disclaimer:** Transformers could never be owned by me. I just own Coppergleam, the plot, and youngling Optimus and Megatron's character.

* * *

_Location: Earth_

Megatron zipped through the groundbridge. He could hear Starscream's high, talon-against-metal, screeching voice screaming obscenities at the Autobots before he even saw the other side of the portal. Mentally grinding his dentae, Megatron resolved to "teach" the Seeker his place once again, if only for using that voice of his. Then he smirked. He was Megatron, Decepticon Warlord, bane of the Autobots, soon-to-be Conqueror of the Universe. He could do whatever he wanted, which included beating his traitorous coward of a Second in Command simply because he felt like it.

No one would dare stop him. According to Soundwave, the troops _still_ feared to even _think_ of what happened to the stupid, idiotic officer who dared to challenge Megatron a few thousand vorns ago, at the start of the war. Needless to say, none but Starscream had been glitched enough to challenge Megatron's leadership so fiercely since that… rather _unfortunate_ incident. Which was just as well. Another feral smirk graced the warlord's faceplates. He had truly struck fear into the sparks of thousands that orn.

Coming back to the situation at hand as he transformed and landed in the middle of the fight, almost crushing a vehicon under his pedes in the process, his bloodred optics immediately locked onto Prime.

Oh, he saw the purple femme – Arcee, was it? – and her sisters taking on a few vehicons. The big, green bulky one was repeatedly hitting Breakdown in the faceplates. He saw the weapon toting black mech eating the troops alive; that mech was Prime's bodyguard for a reason, Megatron supposed. He also saw the lithe silver frame of a certain Autobot officer wreaking havoc on the battlefield.

… _What?!_

Megatron did a double take at the saboteur. _What?_ He had ripped that mech in half in that blasted human city! How in the name of Primus up above did the slagging little minibot manage to survive _that?_

Jazz laughed as he whirled by, shooting at an enraged Barricade. "Miss me, Buckethead?"

Megatron growled as he shot at the passing silver saboteur, who dodged said shot. As he moved to shoot at him again, his attention was drawn away as Optimus Prime entered his field of view.

"Prime. What a lovely surprise this is." There it was again. As soon as the Prime was 300 meters away, Megatron felt a light tug at his spark. A faint urge to kneel and sub – frag! He was _not_ going to give in to his enemy.

"Megatron."

With a ferocious snarl, he leapt forward at Optimus, his blade clashing against Optimus's. Over their crossed arms, Megatron could see into Prime's disgustingly blue optics. Sadness and regret still shimmered in the blue depths, even after so long. Prime… he was so sad. Why the frag was his Prime –

Megatron snarled again, pushing against Optimus, and leaped back. They went at each other like that. The rest of the battlefield forgotten, the raging battle around them a faraway thing, the sounds of screaming mechs a buzz against their fields. They fought.

When they fought, it was always like a dance. Both knew the other's patterns, moves, and capabilities quite intimately. A violent, dangerous but at the same time invigorating dance. They lashed out each other with their blades. They punched, kicked, slashed, cut, and shot each other repeatedly. It was the most alive Megatron had felt in so long. Yet, at the same time, his spark kept insisting for him to stop inflicting harm and bow to Prime. Like Pit that was going to happen. He would sooner blown himself up and allow Starscream to lead the Decepticons than submit to Prime.

Megatron was shaken from his brief internal battle as a sharp stab of pain lanced up his right arm and he doubled over as Optimus took advantage of his momentary distraction to kick at his already injured abdomen.

_He would not win this fight._

Knowing the eventual outcome of this fight, and grudgingly accepting the fact that Optimus had won this one, he ordered Soundwave to open a groundbridge.

"Decepticons, retreat!"

With that, Megatron transformed and flew into the groundbridge, leaving behind the victorious (this time) Autobots. Unbeknownst to him, he had also left behind him a spark-torn Prime.

O.o.O.o.O

_Location: Nemesis, Earth_

The warlord stormed through the bridge of the ship, past the communications hub, purposefully bypassing the medbay (he really had no patience for Knockout's blabbering), and into his private quarters. When the massive doors closed behind him, Megatron turned and abruptly punched the wall, causing the entire wall to shake from the force. More energon flowed from his broken digits.

Snarling, he shook off the energon droplets, ignoring the flares of pain. Tired, confused, in pain and thoroughly slagged, he didn't fight the memory that his traitorous processor pushed forward. He let himself sink into his younglinghood.

O.o.O.o.O

_Location: Tyger Pax, Cybertron_

Silverstreak woke from his fitful recharge at the gentle brush of Orion against their bond, the light poking of a digit on his backstrut, and an unfamiliar, menacing, growling voice.

"Orion! What the frag are you doing? I slagging told you to leave your brother alone and let him recharge in peace. You're going to wake him, you little –"

Silverstreak opened his optics. Everything looked fuzzy and blurry. Then a flash of red passed in front of his faceplates, and suddenly, he saw the blurred, grinning faceplates of his brother.

"Streaker! You're up!" Orion said happily.

"Fragging great. You woke him up. I hope you're proud, Orion." There was the growling voice again. What was going on? Were they in trouble? How did the mech know Orion's designation?

Silverstreak focused his optics and saw a huge red and white mech looming over him. The mech reached out and plucked Orion off of him and set him down somewhere else, despite the protests. Then he saw the scowling faceplates of the mech. He shrunk back in fear and reached across the bond to Orion.

_~Orion? Who – who is this strange mech? ~_

_~S'okay, Streaker. His name is Ratchet. He says he's a doctor. ~_

"Listen up, youngling. Silverstreak, was it? My designation is Ratchet; I am a certified doctor in Tyger Pax."

Silverstreak only stared back with wide optics. The scary mech was still scowling. Only, he was glaring now too. He said he was a doctor. Doctors were good, right? Docbots were good. They fixed mechs ups, not hurt them. Plus, Orion had said he was okay. Ratchet was a good mech. Ratchet was a good mech. Ratchet was a good mech.

"See here. I found your two sorry afts in some alleyway, and brought you here to fix you up, since you obviously have no family. You've been in my little clinic for two orns now." Ratchet scowled again. "I can't keep you, so get better real quick." Ratchet shoved half a cube of energon in his servos and left.

Orion climbed back onto the berth Silverstreak was on and snuggled into his side.

"Ratchet's real nice, Streaker. He sounds mean, but he real nice. He's funny too and guess what?"

When Silverstreak didn't reply, Orion rolled his optics. "Fine, I'll tell you even though you didn't guess. Ratchet swears even more than Ironhide! Once I saw him throw a funny shaped metal thing at a dark blue mech and it hit him in the head, and then Ratchet started swearing and yelling at the mech for a looooong time."

Now fully roused from recharge, Silverstreak rolled his optics. "That's not possible. How can someone swear more the Ironhide? Everyone knows 'Hide knows more swear words than anybody."

"Yeah, but they don't know Ratchet. He's really awesome –"

Ratchet walked back in at that precise moment, an optic ridge rising at Orion's praise. The scowl turned to a smirk.

"Good to know some bots on Cybertron and the moons have some sense." He came around to Silverstreak's berth and studied him. Then he pulled out a scanner. Recognizing the tool from visits from Coppergleam, the stuck up Towers doctor, Silverstreak relaxed and sat very still though Orion was shifting against him.

Blue light washed over his frame in a very thin, flat beam, the scanner beeping occasionally. Then another scan – this one was green. Ratchet wanted to check everything, so Silverstreak had to endure half a joor of scans and other stuff Ratchet did with a funny machine.

When Silverstreak thought the grumpy medic was done, he asked Ratchet was he was staring at on the display screen of the machine. Ratchet just grunted. Then he looked at him and Orion in awe, Silverstreak thought, and patted them on the helm and told them about their bond. Apparently, his bond with Orion was special. They were special.

Orion grinned at Silverstreak at that, and pressed closer into him. Then Ratchet left them to themselves. They slowly fell back into recharge together, mourning their Creators and missing the Prime and his bodyguard. Wondering what had happened. But despite the fact that their entire life had been uprooted in such a short time, it was a little better now. They were safe with Ratchet. Maybe, one day, everything would finally be okay.


	5. Chapter Four: Realization

**A/N:** Hello again! Sorry for the wait. I've been super busy with things, and I've started writing for Fairy Tail. Fairy Tail fans, anyone?

Sorry again, no memories in this one. Next chapter will have at least one.

Thanks to kikigraysonwest and a guest reviewer for reviewing! They make my day. :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers, obviously. Plot, however, is mine.

* * *

_Location: Nemesis, Earth_

Soundwave was concerned. As concerned as he ever got, which was saying a lot. Laserbeak beeped and Soundwave nodded silently. Lord Megatron was acting very strangely. Soundwave had been with him for eons, always by his side even since before the war began, when Lord Megatron first called for mechs to build up his following. He knew the warlord quite well, better than most would imagine, especially given his mental capabilities.

Soundwave would never pry at Lord's Megatron's mind, but as of late, the Lord had seemed rather distracted. So much that his fortress of mental barriers had lowered, allowing Soundwave to catch a glimpse of the complex thought process of his Lord.

Soundwave hadn't expected for Lord Megatron to appear as anything but strong, dominating, and overall, ridiculously powerful. As a result of this belief, he also never expected the day would come that Megatron's fortress wall would crack. No one else noticed the tiny crack, of course, but Soundwave was a master at literally reading and seeing into mechs' minds.

He had been scanning the floating, blatant thoughts and monitoring the conversations of the mechs on the Nemisis, filtering them away for later reference and use. Suddenly, a thought so powerful that it called all of his attention, accompanied with the most intense emotions Soundwave had ever come upon, flashed through his processor. With it, a blurred image of a dark armoured mech and a smaller femme standing beside him. Then it was gone, and Soundwave was left to wonder what the image meant when he figured out whose processor it came from.

Lord Megatron was suffering from something, of that Soundwave was certain. The exact nature of that something, however, was unclear. That was fine though; Soundwave would interfere only if its effects begin to affect his master and the Decepticon cause, only when absolutely necessary. He would observe Lord Megatron closely before reaching a conclusion. He would watch and wait for however long was required. He would listen and calculate and monitor. It was Soundwave's specialty, after all.

* * *

_Location: _Ark, _Earth_

Ratchet was annoyed. He was beyond annoyed. Pit, he was so fragged off, Ironhide had claimed his vents were expelling smoke. Ironhide had went down with a well aimed throw, the projectile having ricocheted off his helm as he foolishly turned his back to Ratchet, but strangely enough, it had not alleviated any of his frustration. Under normal circumstances, smacking a mech with his weapon of choice put him in a fantastic mood, but not today, it seemed.

Ratchet didn't even know what mech had done what to frag him off so much. Perhaps Wheeljack had managed to blow up his lab again and it threw off his shoulder joint calibrations. Perhaps Sideswipe had accidently cut the tension wire in his leg again. Maybe Prowl had pulled four shifts in a row _again_. Or perhaps Optimus had managed to evade _another_ medical exam? No, none of those instances were the reason for this… Ratchet was starting to think that there was no legitimate reason for his anger. So then why was he so…

Ah. That was it. He remembered now. Optimus had come running into the medbay this morning sounding extremely stressed and completely shocked. Prime had blabbed on and on about the Matrix, which, Ratchet found, was quite interesting in itself, because Optimus Prime never _blabbed_ about _anything_. Until today. As soon as Ratchet finished laughing his aft off at Optimus's dishevelled state, he waved Optimus to his office and started listening when the Prime became upset and began to act edgy.

Apparently, the Matrix of Leadership was acting strangely. Ratchet had immediately said that maybe, just maybe, it was malfunctioning, being such an ancient artefact. Optimus had been quite taken aback, looking even more shocked and quite offended at that suggestion. Okay, apparently not. Before Ratchet could offer another astonishingly blasphemous hypothesis, Optimus hurried on and started spewing slag about the Matrix sending random pulses of warm energy.

Ratchet almost smacked the Prime upside his helm with that in exasperation. Come on! Like _that_ hasn't happened before? It usually meant the Matrix was imparting a bit of its wisdom and advice, or it was saying they were all screwed, or it was showing strange affection for Optimus.

Now, Ratchet wasn't one of those crazy worshippers of Primus that were always hanging around the temples back in the day. Far from it, actually. So far that he seriously doubted that Primus even exists or ever existed in the first place. Ratchet did, however, did believe in the Matrix of Leadership, however questionable that belief sometimes was (despite having seen the Matrix itself, he wasn't sure if it was actually what everyone claimed it to be), and he firmly believed in Optimus.

So Ratchet believed in the Matrix. He also didn't know the artefact very well. However, he trusted that Optimus would recognize the intents of the Matrix were they war/wisdom-related. Thus, Ratchet concluded that it was simply acting weird in a way that did not bring any sort of bad omen and all related slag. Smirking happily at his quick conclusion, he began to push Optimus out of his medbay. It's not like he had been just sitting around experiencing the pain of boredom to its full potential or anything. There was always work to do when at war.

He kicked Optimus out the double doors of the _Ark_ medbay, ignoring the desperate ramblings of the currently far too dramatic Prime.

"Ratchet, you don't understand! It's not like anything I've felt before! I honestly have no idea what this could mean!" Optimus paused, then started again, quieter. "I… I think that, for a fleeting moment, I felt the presence of Megatron. It was like our sparks –"

The doors slammed in Optimus's faceplates.

Ratchet went back to reorganizing his entire medbay, now having to take inventory once again to be sure the numbers were correct. Stupid Prime, he couldn't have waited until Ratchet was done. He wasted another few hours painstakingly ensuring his numbers were right on the dot.

Now, more than a joor since, Ratchet thought back to their conversation. It did seem a bit off; Optimus never lost composure in front of anyone. Perhaps he had judged the situation far too quickly. Thinking back on their earlier conversation, he carefully analyzed Optimus's words and actions.

_Different from before? Not likely. The Matrix has no reason to behave oddly. And Megatron to boost? Not at all possible. Optimus would never go fraternizing with the enemy._

Suddenly, Ratchet jerked back and the tools he had been holding clattered onto the ground. Perhaps… perhaps Optimus was right after all.

Sometimes, it was hard to remember anything but the war, especially since both sides fought so unceasingly ferociously. It was hard to remember what things were like before the war. Namely, Optimus and Megatron. After eons of constant fighting, it was hard to forget what they were all like now and even more difficult to recall their past selves.

_Megatron and Optimus hadn't always been like this. They had, once upon a time, been closer than any pair of siblings._

Ratchet burst out of his medbay, inventory forgotten, supplies left scattered on the floor. He ignored everything, not noticing mechs duck out of sight and giving him a wide berth due to the grim look set on his faceplates. He ignored Sideswipe, who was limping towards the medbay, arms waving for attention. He ignored Wheeljack, blackened armour and all, stumbling towards the medbay as well. There was something that took precedence above their injuries.

_:Ratchet to Prime. I am going to you office right now. You'd better not move. Out.:_

Ratchet had to see the Prime.

* * *

_Location: Megatron's private quarters, Nemesis, Earth_

Megatron was tired. He was tired beyond measure. He was so tired that he had sequestered himself in his private quarters for days on end, which incurred a handful of questioning comm. calls from Soundwave. He told Soundwave to stop questioning his actions, of course, but for some reason, it hadn't really stopped the flow. Normally, no one dared disobey even a _suggestion_ from him (albeit, his suggestions _were_ commands), much less a command. It had been that way since he became warlord. However, Soundwave, for whatever reason, was ignoring his command.

The only answer for that was that Soundwave had noticed his recent behaviour and tagged it as way off the mark compared to his normal routines and actions. It was to be expected, Megatron supposed. His Third in Command and Communications Officer didn't get those positions for nothing after all.

Megatron had suspected that Soundwave had seen the first memory that burst forward from his heavily code locked memory core. It had caught him by surprise, and as a result, his mental barriers had momentarily slipped. He had been extremely careful in fortifying his mental walls the following like instances, but undoubtedly, the first time had not gone unnoticed by the ever observative telepathic mech. From then on, his behaviour had been noticed by not only Soundwave; Starscream had in all probability noticed also, and perhaps Knockout as well.

If his conniving SIC had indeed noticed his behaviour change, then said mech had already begun scheming about how to best exploit this seeming weakness that Megatron had finally shown. Knockout would have a one sided gossip conversation with Breakdown. It was these two glitches that annoyed Megatron to no end. Megatron had crushed no less than thousands of Starscream's pathetic excuses for schemes and dealt with Knockout countless times as well. They never learn.

To be quite honest, it had been fun in the beginning, to teach Starscream his place. By now, after eons, it had become fragging annoying, which was one reason to stop things before they started. The other reason being that it would be extremely degrading to his reputation and public image if the Decepticons ever saw him like this.

Megatron's now self directing memory programs were also seriously fragging him off. Now that, that was the main reason for his thoughts of making haste in figuring this all out. This strange occurrence was affecting him emotionally. It was affecting his usual scheming routines, his normal behaviour, his typical thought process, and perhaps most importantly, it was affecting the way he thought of Optimus Prime. _That_ was what was most worrying. Optimus Prime was his archenemy, his nemesis, his biggest adversary. Megatron had wanted to _kill_ Prime for millennia upon millennia, and now he was thinking _pacified thoughts about the mech?!_ The memories in themselves had been quite disturbing, but thinking about the Autobot's wretched leader like the brother that he once upon a time was? He had been quite shocked but had also been filled with a flash of nostalgia remembering his younglinghood, surprisingly enough.

However, it wasn't that surprising when he thought about it. Despite all that had happened, despite the hate, despite the chasm separating them, Megatron, however he might had wanted to deny it, still thought of Optimus Prime as his brother deep down in his spark. These feelings were not permitted though, not during a war he himself had waged against his brother. He had to figure out what was happening. He could feel a dramatic shift somewhere within him, a shift Megaton desperately hoped was not unfixable. His thinking started to shift towards _warm_ and _affectionate_ concerning his brother when he really should be thinking _vicious_ and _cruel_ about _everything_. He had to stop this, in some way or another. This couldn't go on any longer, or so Primus help him, he would eventually find himself loving Optimus again. Convincing himself otherwise, Megatron, with great difficulty, managed to direct his processor back to his usual way of thinking. He was back to himself once again.

Now, in Megatron's optics, he once again hated Optimus Prime for all intents and purposes. In Megatron's optics, he no longer had a brother; his twin had died a long time ago. In Megatron's optics, nothing in their history before the war counted. After all, he hated Optimus Prime with all his being and that was that.

* * *

_Location: Prime's private quarters, _Ark_, Earth_

Optimus Prime was confused. He was as confused as he was ever going to get, he figured. He was so confused that "confused" didn't even begin to cover his confusion. Optimus didn't get confused often; it was one of the things that came with being a Prime.

Sure, he had been confused when Air Raid reported a flying accident that resulted in Silverbolt and Skyfire, two of the Aerialbots' most careful fliers, tangled up in an inseparable mass of metal that nearly totalled both their frames. He had been puzzled when Sunstreaker offered to polish and wax his marred armour after Ratchet repaired him following a particularly gruesome battle. He had been quite bewildered when Prowl asked permission to beat Jazz into the ground for something or other the saboteur had done (Optimus had said no). He had been very baffled when the Autobot Femme Division kidnapped Ratchet, Nightbeat and himself for a while, sending the base into a frenzy (Ratchet had been furious; Optimus would be lying if he said it wasn't even the tiniest bit funny). He had been extremely perplexed when little Bumblebee had clung to him and chosen him to be his foster Creator. At least in _those_ situations, he had managed to figure everything out in little time. But this? This went above and beyond all previously experienced confusing situations.

The Matrix was acting strangely, for one. Two, he had felt the presence of Megatron for a moment. Three, the combined the facts were tied to the slight change in his behaviour as well. He had been isolating himself more and more often as time went on, in an attempt to find out the reason for these events, but questions had already arose, mostly from Prowl.

This forced him to think harder. What could this all be about? Why was all this happening? What was the Matrix's ultimate goal?

Optimus had a hypothesis, of course, but it seemed so absurd. However, it was the only answer he had that made any sort of sense. Could it be that, after eons, the Matrix was taking matters into its own hypothetical hands and attempting to end this war? That was the part that was understandable. It was the way that it seemed to have chosen to accomplish this. The Matrix must be trying to connect them again. It must be trying to awaken Megatron's Lord High Protector coding. It was the only way to end this without any more bloodshed than necessary. Now, the real question was: How does the Matrix plan to do it?

It was this that confused Optimus to no end. It was the unanswerable question. There was no way for it to transcend physical form, for its contents could not survive outside the container. Megatron had no connection to it either. Another thing that was left unexplained was the warm pulses he periodically received from the Matrix. In all honesty, Optimus had no clue what they meant or their purpose. There must be one; the Matrix never did anything without a reason, after all. Though this time, like most other times, its intentions were completely hidden from the Prime. Hence, the endless confusion.

Oh yeah, he wasn't the only one who was so confused over this… this strange occurrence. The Matrix, for all its acclaimed power and wisdom, was confused as well. The collective wisdom of the past Primes offered no insight on Megatron's character and state of mind. Megatron had changed, after all. He was no longer the brother Optimus once knew, nor was he the Lord High Protector the Matrix once chose. It would not be easy. Optimus wanted the same as the Matrix did. The people needed Megatron, as did Optimus, as did the Matrix. However, he didn't just want his Lord High Protector back at his side, ruling over Cybertron. He wanted Megatron back, he wanted his brother back, he wanted his twin back, and he wanted his best friend back.

For those reasons, Optimus vowed to do everything in his ability to bring back the Megatron he knew. The Matrix needed Megatron to balance the Prime's power. Cybertron needed its warrior guardian. Their people needed their Lord High Protector. Optimus needed his brother.

He would get Megatron back. He had to.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope that was alright. Please let me know if there are mistakes or if I was seriously off with the characterization. Thanks!


End file.
